


Realmwalker

by HirenShei



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Baby's first 2nd POV fic, F/M, First FFXIV Fic, Fluff and Angst, Grief/Mourning, I am absolutely clueless to official canon, I've got no business writing this, Oneshot, Please Don't Kill Me, Romance, Sort Of, Still Wrote It, didn't get that far in the game yet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:47:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28481895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HirenShei/pseuds/HirenShei
Summary: A gravestone towers on the precipe of the chasm below. It is a sober reminder of a cruel parting, and despite having seen it so many, many times, it still pains you to look upon it.You swallow away bitter memories of grief and kneel down to brush away the snow that covers the engraving, but the name you find isn't the one you expected.It is your own.------FFXIV Heavensward spoilers
Relationships: Haurchefant Greystone/Warrior of Light
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As you may have seen in the tags, I am a noob with no business writing about canon I didn't experience in-game yet. Yet here I am, please don't eat me! (or spoil me as to how things actually work, I promise I will get to those bits soon enough... as soon as I am done grieving/finish my long-fic.)
> 
> I hope you enjoy it despite my short-comings!
> 
> I was inspired to try 2nd POV after reading a beautiful fic from [ObviouslyElementary](https://archiveofourown.org/users/obviouslyelementary/pseuds/obviouslyelementary) named: ['Till sunrise](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27974966) Give it a read!

# The Realmwalker

After everything, after all the hardships interspersed with happiness and content, the world did end. Or so it did for you.

For you left the source and visited the first. Ever since then, you haven't quite felt the same. There has been a disconnect, you can't explain it, nor do you care to. But yet you know, because as similar as things look at first glance, they are different. Names, places, people. 

Even continents. But each time you feel your aether unbind from the mirror-face of Hydaelyn, you know that when next you open your eyes, the same lands will appear with different names and different faces.

They call you Realmwalker.

—

You breathe in a lung full of sea-salt air. Yet it is not Limsa Lominsa that greets you when you open your eyes. Hours before, you closed them in the far east.

It is a harbor town and you are standing beside its main aetherite. A ship wharf extends past the cliffs, above you, a city sprawls.  
Idyllshire. It isn't called that, here. But after so many worlds with so many names, you do not care to learn another.

Your feet take you to a carmoisine red banner. Ornamented with four symbols and a crown spanning over them. Four- there are always four. One time though- there were five. That was a weird reflection.

So, Ishgard then. In combination with the sea- you shake your head. Even after so many reflections, Hydaelyn still manages to surprise. 

Yet you aren't here to sightsee, you remind yourself. Having discarded your last title for this one, you decide on a place of mixed feelings as a destination and reach out to the aetherite.

Dragonhead. Home? 

No. Not for a long time. It is, however, a place you find yourself drawn to. If not for the memories you have of it, rather than as an easy means to visit the cliffs.

Providence point. You dislike the name and have come to dislike the view more often than not. Save for the few times the city survived and that one time where all of Eorzia was a lifeless wasteland, that time you had found the rubble of the Holy See covered in a field of beautiful flowers.  
This time, the city stands tall and greets you with a face full of cold air that stings your eyes and colors your cheeks.

Your heart still braces for the shock that had set you on this path when you find a gravestone on the precipis of the chasm below. It is a sober reminder of a cruel parting, and despite having seen it so many- many times, it still pains you to look upon it. 

You swallow away bitter memories of grief and kneel down to brush away the snow that covers the engraving, expecting to see his name.  
Your friend, your protector, and lover. 

But it is not his name you find when your fingers pry off the ice and snow.

It is your own.

It isn't the first time you find yourself- your mirror-image- dead. But never before had that definition included a headstone in such a hallowed place.  
More often than not, you simply never found out. You could have been long buried, or be reduced to bones, picked clean by scavenger birds. Sometimes, however, the people remember you. You died fighting a primal, or the Empire, and once you had even managed to die against the Emperor himself.  
But those past images were exactly that. The past. Here and now, the cold was getting uncomfortable as you stared at your name etched in a tombstone.  
Quite a surreal experience, it makes you think.

Your thoughts are disturbed by the sound of something falling into the freshly fallen snow. About a yalm or two behind you. For a moment you wonder who would visit your grave, but you do not wonder for long.  
Of course, he does.

He speaks your name as if it is a prayer to one of the twelve. You step backward, more on instinct than as a conscious thought. Because you have been through this before, and you know where that path leads.

"I am not her." You speak in a forced manner. "I am but a reflection." You realize how confusing you sound, but do not move to clarify, not even when his expression drives a stake through your heart.

"How can you not be when you look just like her?" He smiled through his confusion with a frantic glimmer in his eye.

"I am a realm-walker. I am displaced, and here only to help this reflection onward. " You rehearse your much-practiced lines. You tired of trying to understand this title and it's meaning long ago, he never did listen to it. You doubt this reflection of his will be all that different.  
"Your me is dead, I am sorry, but I am not her."

He shakes his head, confusion struggles against grief so familiar it hurts you to see it in him. You know you cannot help him- you know where it leads if you do- so you turn around and flee while your heart yet listens to your mind.  
Why is it always like this?

"Please, wait."

Why does his voice still affect you so? Was it because the last time you saw a reflection of his he died in the embrace of your reflection? Or because, despite all the time that had passed, you never really healed from the first time you saw him die?  
You wait. 

"I don't understand what you said- but I know what I see. Your eyes are different, your scars are different, as is the way you carry yourself. But pray, tell me. Are you real? or just a figment of my imagination?" He pleaded with a heartbroken smile that never failed to cut deep.

"It will be kinder for you to think of me as nothing more than a dream." You say, speaking from experience. You smile. 

"If you are thus- a figment, then why do you look at me with such sadness? Have I disappointed you so?" He asked with earnest emotion. And yet, he smiled.

You have a weakness to these smiles. These smiles that know better- yet still linger nonetheless. You try to answer it with one of your own, but realize that no matter how much you try, you never do smile as brightly as he does.  
"I died, and left you." You gaze at the gravestone. "Where I come from, it is the reverse. You died protecting me."

You see him realize, and react. Your gut roils, as no matter how often you've stood across from him, no matter how much you prepare, it never goes the way you expect it does.

He replies with an invitation for hot chocolate...  
... you agree because deep down the longing sings louder than your conscience. And you know, for as jaded as you thought you had become, there is no way you can get it over your heart to decline such an invitation. Even if the drink now brings with it memories you think are better left undisturbed.

The hearth is warm. In every single reflection where Dragonhead exists and wasn't a ruin, the hearth was always warm.  
You sip the hot drink whilst noticing a host of eyes, staring at you. Haurchefant notices and tells you not to mind them. He smiles hopefully at you. It turns the sweet hot chocolate bitter. 

"I cannot be her." You say from your heart. It isn't that you chose to change so much. But such is the weight of the title that now frames your walk of life. You do not like to think back to when you realized this change.  
"Even if you are a mirror-image or a dream. I prefer that over the void that has become my companion these last years." He speaks genuine, you know him well enough by now.  
The sentiment doesn't leave you untouched. But the truth of your existence, as ordained so by Hydaelyn, makes you shake your head.  
"I cannot stay." Not for long, anyway. Though if you tried...  
Do you want to?

You shake away the thought. His expression falls, pain shimmers in his eyes. You want to stay.

You compromise for now. You stare in your mug at what is left of the hot chocolate whilst gathering the courage to say what you know you need to say, but don't have the heart to.  
Not when you see him looking at you with eyes that hold the whole world trapped in them. Dark rims line his eyes. You see he hasn't been sleeping well.  
The longer you look, the more you see. He takes your hand and calls you by your name. 

"Did we- ever become more than friends before I died?"

You should have expected it. It isn't the first time he has asked you that. Yet it still feels like a punch in the gut as you shudder. Your first kiss wasn't in a romantic setting but on the battlefield. You had needed the added rush of a victory to dare let show what you felt.  
You nod. "But not as much as we wanted to be." You meet his gaze. "And you?"

"We were engaged to be wed." He tells you with a rueful smile. "She died shortly after defeating Thordan."  
You had obliterated him and his twelve. But you learned, that day, that revenge doesn't bring back the dead, or even helps in mourning them.

He begs you to stay. You mean to tell him no. You end up staying because the words won't come over your lips.

He tells you, the following morn, that his reflection- his you- wielded a spear. You tell him you used to wield one too. But the two-handed blade brings fewer bad memories and turns your anger into your strength.  
He always wields the same arms; a sword and shield adorned with a thorn-wreathed lance. You tell him his shield bore a unicorn where you are from, and that you've set it beside his headstone. He asks where he has been buried.  
You give him the answer and watch him look at you with saddened eyes. Regret bleeds up in your heart, but there is no way to un-speak a word.

Come evening, you ponder leaving without a word, but he reads you better than you hoped. He meets you under the moonlight and asks you as you let him hold your hands;

"Must you?"

You cannot answer him as your feigned strength leaves you at the mercy of the cold Coerthan winds. Even if they aren't called that anymore.  
They take you back to those good days. He stands before you offering that which you have denied yourself but longed so much for.  
Freely, and without expectation. 

Do you have the strength to walk away once more?  
Do you?

Your resolve cracks.

You awaken in your room. The last one on the left has always been your room. You remember his arms around you. You find it harder to correct how you call him in your head, he has become more than a reflection.  
You let him be more, and wake without regretting it. Despite how much you know you should.

He shares breakfast with you. You notice his eyes have brightened, the dark rims lining his eyes had faded a little. He stood taller.  
And so do you. It frightens you, he takes note and pursues it like he always does. In every single reflection you've met him in.  
With a hurting heart you cannot bear to hide from him any longer, you tell him;  
"I've done this before, with another you. I cannot do so again."

He beholds you as the warmth of the hearth warms you.  
"I am a realmwalker. I walk realms, I can slow my tred and hasten it if I so wish. But I cannot stop." You silently beg him to understand why all of this was such a bad idea, but your heart isn't in it anymore. You just don't have the emotional fortitude to carry on the lie. Is it a lie? It feels like one.

He touches you. His hand caresses your cheek. He doesn't understand- and yet he feels your pain as vividly as you feel his.  
As if you've never lost him.

"When must you go?" He asks with such empathy you have only ever seen in him. 

"I don't know." You remember the last time painfully well, but back then you would have answered the same. "I cannot predict it. I only know when it is there and that our partings never become easier." You look at him. He looks at you.  
You see he understands, and it breaks him. Yet he smiles even now, especially now. 

You hate it. No matter how you try to stifle the emotion raging within you, it wrests free and cries out and accuses you of the lies you tell yourself.  
It visits every memory of every moment like this that you can remember, and tears apart the reasoning you used in every single one, again and again until you cannot bear it anymore. You hear him call out to you, but his words are drowned by the maelstrom that is devouring you.

His finger strokes over your cheek, it is wet with tears. Your tears you had thought shed long ago. 

You feel his breath- not only in your hair but against your chest. He is holding you, and you are holding him in a grip so strong you can feel his heartbeat against the palm of your hand. You feel his voice and see his resolve, but hearing his touch is what stills you. He has you against his clavicle and his hand over the side of your head. His breath touches your neck and his smell is- everywhere. 

Smoke and well-tended leather. Pine and snow. 

Home.

You break.  
You do not cry, you wail, and he holds you against his shoulder and whispers words of which their meanings drift by you without registering.  
You never let yourself cry. Not like this, not ever- until now. And it took you until this moment to realize how much you needed to, all this time.

—

You awaken in your room. The last one on the left was again your room. You remember his arms around you. Your heart breaks at the thought of leaving as it does at staying. You are afraid. But the fear vanishes when you find him waiting for you.  
He offers you his arm, you take it and he brings you outside. It is snowing.

You realize he is trying to help you leave.

You know you should, but you also know you cant. So you look at him, and ask;

"Will you forgive me for-"  
He doesn't let you finish.  
"I will."

You know why.

You hug him and pray. 

"Oh Hydaelyn, take me away." You cry. You feel your aether untether from this reflection and cry bitter tears as it does. 

He smiles as you feel the aether within you be set adrift. His touch passes through you and you vanish.

You are alone.

You breathe in a lung full of sea-salt air. Yet you cannot bring yourself to care to find out where you are anymore.

—

After everything, after all the hardships interspersed with happiness and content, the world did end. Or so it did for you.  
You weren't the same. Not even your purpose gives you joy anymore. Instead, you step from realm to realm with a handful of paces. Uninterested in their fates.

So Hydaelyn tells you what she had seen and asks why you blame her. You tell her the truth. Like the mantle of the Warrior of Light, so weighed that of Realmwalker. 

"You long for home." The mother spoke thus to her. "Oh, wayward child of mine. How thy had labored in my name. Wielded thy blade for my honor and defended these children of mine. I shall giveth thy what thy seeketh, but will only do so in time. Go forth now, walker of realms, and fight just a moment longer. Keep heart, and I shall give you what thy needs to mend a broken heart."

Yet believe her you do not. She has spelled out such promises before, after all. Not even Hydaelyn will raise those who had fallen. 

You cross reflection after reflection driven by a glimmer of hope you know cannot be true, yet you fight. For if there is only a small chance-  
You realize Hydaelyn knows you well.

When you rest your injured body after another fight, you dream as you always dream. The same person in the same place.  
Only this time the unicorn was no unicorn anymore, but a shield adorned with a thorn-wreathed lance. 

You wake with a wet face as you know you have never returned to a visited reflection, but still hope to do so against all odds. 

You fight. Your blade eats through steel, hemp, wool, and leather. Skin, sinew, and bone are sundered as your grief fuels your strength. One after the other they fall. You gaze at their blood as an intrusive thought demands to be heard.  
You ignore it. You know he would forgive you for anything but that.

—

You fight on. Day after day. You dream. Night after night. And all the while you long for something you know isn't yours to receive or to ask.  
Not even the one you know as Nidhogg can break you from your stupor. You fight it, hoping to die.  
But you do not.

Your legs move too fast to be caught in its breath or snagged by its claws. Your sword is too swift for your enemy to block. You fall but get back up.  
Hate stares you in the eyes as it speaks corrupted words spilling from a tainted mind, and for a moment, you see yourself.  
The shock burns in your veins and you bare your teeth in a snarl as you charge forward. You are not like this entity of hate. You silence the voice in you that reasons you have already become much more like the ancient wyrm you have slain over and over again. You don't want to hear it.

When it lies bleeding in front of you, culled and defeated you barely still draw breath. Only now do you see where you are.  
The bridge where it had all begun. The steps of faith.

You scramble to your feet but feel that you are bleeding out. You turn around and find the See still stands proud, unspoiled and undefeated.  
It's carmoisine banners flapped in the wind. Your eye -you are having trouble seeing straight- wanders over the bottom right sigil.

You see a lance, wreathed in thorns. 

"Realmwalker of mine."

You turn on your heels as best you are able and find a healer to heal you so you may make it out of the Holy See. Your heart drums in your chest, but you fear to believe your hope to be the truth.

"If thou seeketh to remain-"

You see Dragonhead and hesitate. For all your selfish wants-

"-then thy needs relinquish thy title to me."

You hear Hydaelyn speak.

He isn't here. Your feet take you to where your gravestones are and you hold your breath. You kneel down, brush away the snow and;  
Find your name.

You dare to hope as you dare to face the truth you had kept hidden from yourself because it was too painful to behold.  
You wish you had never left. For this world's reflection- was so much more than that. Only you didn't let yourself see this because you feared loss more than you dared love.  
The regret overwhelms you.

Your thoughts are disturbed by the sound of something falling into the freshly fallen snow. About a yalm or two behind you. For a moment you try not to hope, but you hope anyway.  
This time you look to what has fallen, first, and see two bouquets of lilies.  
You look up, your heart bursts and you smile.

Hope shimmers in his eyes as it does in yours. You fall into his arms. He sobs, you sob, and together you hold each other in an embrace you wish would never need end.  
"I couldn't-" You try to speak, but being coherent is hard.

"You came back!" You hear him say with pure, unperturbed joy and care not that you can barely breathe with how he holds you. You look skyward whilst you pray;  
"Hydaelyn- mother of us all. I forsake my title. I will be a realm-walker no more. I beg you, let me stay-" You speak in a struggling voice whilst your eyes see hope bloom in the eyes of the one you love.  
"Free me of this burden and please,-" You look cry. "-let me go home."

You feel your aether coil and reflexively push yourself deeper in his embrace. 

It breaks. Yet you still feel his breath and the way he tries to reassure you by running his hands over your back.  
You are terrified, but feel safe as your aether flows and reforms. 

Then all became quiet, and you heard her voice no more. You look up to him, he looks down to you. A hand touches your face as you touch his. Hope flickers in your eyes. 

"I can feel her no longer- I am..." You hesitate- but find the courage to continue. "I am free..."

"You won't leave anymore?" He asks you, his voice filled with light, hope, and love.

You know it. It is a truth as solid as your previous titles were. "I won't." You speak and begin to shiver. "I am-... home?" You ask. The beginnings of a smile quiver over your lips.

"You are!" He smiles in sheer relief. "For now and evermore." He holds you in his arms with such vigor as not to lose you. You hold your breath as if you fear letting it go will break the moment and reveal it to be nothing more than a dream.

But let it go you must. For your lungs are burning and your body begs for breath. With the next one you take, you feel the tethers of this world grab you and hold you as tight as he does.  
You feel the air heat between you as your legs give in. He bears your weight, he lifts you in his arms and your eyes meet. 

You are a Realmwalker no more.


	2. Chapter 2

The battle is won, but at what price? Was it worth it?

You don’t know. All you know is that a dragon now lies dead at your feet. The pillars are still intact, mostly, and you don’t yet hear the sounds of more of their kin on the frigid winds.  
Below fires rage, the smoke funnels up past you bringing a swirl of embers that light up the night sky.

Through the ashes of unrecognizable bodies you wade and begin to panic. Haurchefant had been with you mere moments ago- but as you scour your surroundings you see nothing but ash and smoke. 

Your blood runs cold as you eye the edge of the last vigil and find the railing gone- you stare down into a fiery abyss muddled by darkness and accented by the cries of the innocent. The ones who did not partake in this war. 

Your strength leaves you. You sink through your knees into the ashes as your heart bleeds to see the Holy See so ravaged and despoiled.

You didn’t let it get this bad before. The mansion is-… gone.

The ground shakes, not like before, this feels more as a city’s death rattle. Your subconsciousness scolds you for the analogy, but you reluctantly accept that. For his sake as well as yours, yet the analogy isn’t wrong.   
A knight calls to you, begging you to leave the last vigil ere it falls. You look around once more, but find nothing but ashes and bodies, so you take your weapon and rise to your feet and follow the man down the stairs to where a great many people gathered with muted cries and soft-spoken comforting words.

If he was up there-… you cannot bear the thought. It makes you shiver and your stomach ill. Your breaths grow faster and your knees buckle under a days worth of fighting. 

‘Not again- not again!’ You silently plead as a clergyman speaks words praising the Fury while the fires yet rage below. 

You had only just gotten him back. Or so you told yourself, he was better at separating you from your late mirror-image than you were.   
His kindness, his smile- his complete and absolute resolve. His grief was the only thing that had changed him, you discovered. It ignited within him a protectiveness that bordered on obsessiveness, but you couldn’t fault him for feeling so.

After all, you felt the same.

As the old pain and grief revisit you, they tear open the old wounds and gouge them open so wide you fear as though you may succumb from the pain. You begin to convulse and a curtain secludes you from reality- or so it feels as you watch the world slip past your senses.

You plead and plead, but Hydaelyn has stopped answering you since you’ve renounced your title and chose to remain. So you plead to any who will hear you- any who will have mercy for you. 

The calling of your name is what snaps you from your thoughts. You look up akin a hawk, scouring the faces of everyone in the mass of displaced people. You get up as you swear you hear it called again, and promptly raise what is left of your voice calling him.

Movement in between the ashen faces catches your eye, it’s heading in the wrong direction so you chase it down. You arm your way past the people with no care but to find the one who had called you. The people part before you, all but for one.

Dark grey hair- not silver. You call out to him anyway. He turns around and your eyes dilate with shock.

Behind the dark-grey locks of hair stares back these eyes you will recognize from anywhere- no matter their shade or the way they are set. 

You bolt into a run and he catches you.

“I thought I had lost you-” You cannot finish your sentence. 

“As feared I- my love- my light.” He smiles, his face covered in soot. You take a deep breath and pull him in your arms as he pulls you in his. Your heart soars and you feel yourself growing brave. Or have you gone deaf to your own worries?

You don’t care anymore. Your heart longs as it has for all these weeks now, ever since the miracle of your return. 

You press your lips against his. He didn’t expect it, but within mere moments his hand strokes up over your spine and tangles in your hair as he makes you feel how desperately he craves what you’ve given him, and how passionate he is in sharing this with you.

You’ve wanted this for so long. He wanted this for so long, you can see it in him as clear as day. He doesn’t hide it- but neither did he push it on you. Because to him, love is so much more than the physical.

Even now, in this stolen moment in the wake of a victory that felt as a humiliating defeat, he shows this to you through the way he touches you and where his fingers linger. How his lips move against yours and in the way his every breath courses past your cheek and lifts the skin of your neck up in goosebumps as it caresses past it.

You melt in his touch.

You, however, are stubborn in nature, much to the woe of those who mentored and taught you all your life. But in this singular instance, you draw upon this trait you have and push back against the overwhelming warmth from his affection to shower him with your own. Blood and ash be damned, you run your fingers past his shoulders and up to the back of his neck. You push your body against his ever so subtly whilst you give voice to all of your feelings with nary a sound.

You churn your fingers through his blackened hair and caress his healed shoulder through the gaping hole in his chain-mail one of the dragon’s claws had rent. 

You win. With a gasp, he breaks loose from you and grabs hold of you so tightly the old wound in your side aches. But the pain is bittersweet and you have come to find yourself craving these desperate embraces of his. He pants into the crook of your neck as you smile so brilliantly he would be jealous to miss it should you tease him with it.

Then his body jerks- and you look up to find him sobbing into you. His fingers dig into your skin but they may as well have dug into your heart, for you feel it throb with an all-encompassing love that drowns out every other feeling and thought.

Now you are crying too. You let yourself cry. 

You stroke one hand over his back as you hold his head with the other. 

You are a mess, but you are a mess alongside him and that makes everything right.

“I am here.” You whisper and lean your head against his. “I am home with you.”

The both of you sink through your knees, you are too tired to pretend to be fine any longer. You stroke your hand through his hair and repeat what you told him again- and again until he looks at you in a way that threatens to tear your heart asunder.

With eyes so full of love he touches your cheek and kisses you anew with barely restrained enthusiasm.

He waits for you, as he had waited for you ever since your return. With a desperate longing and undying hope that you would let yourself feel the same. That you could cast off these shackles of the past.

Your heart aches too much of pain and bliss in equal measures.  
But you have made your choice. 

You know he would forgive you. You know you would forgive him.

In your kiss, you part your lips, but you do not wait for him. No.

You string your hands around his neck and pull him down and on top of you as you chance to kiss him with all the passion you thought you had lost. No mud nor blood or ashes stop you as make him shiver under your touch. You try what used to work on him and find that it hasn’t changed. His breath hitches- and then he shows you one of the reasons you ever did fall in love with him for.

His tenacity- he flips you on your back but shields your head from the ground with his hand. But his smile is gone…

Instead, he looks at you with such an intent that you want to say something- anything. But before you can he reached into his mail and fetches a ring strung on a necklace which he promptly snaps. Silver ringlets fly.

“Would you forgive me for-” You do not let him finish.

“I will.” You say without hesitation.

—

You are ‘Warrior of Light’ no more.  
You are ‘The Realmwalker’ no more.

Two titles you wore and discarded, but now you gain a third. One you hope to always keep.

You are ‘Of the silver Fuller’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't plan a part two to this, but-... well, here we are! I am going to try and soothe my heart by writing some more. (just fully finished Heavensward and my heart is in pieces. T-T)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> I got into spoiler territory whilst doing research and this idea kept coming back to me. After reading a beautiful fic in 2nd person, I figured I'd give the POV a try. I usually write in third so this was a bit of a challenge, but I have greatly enjoyed it! This is also my first fic(let) in the FFXVI fandom, so I am eager to know what you all thought of it. The idea of Hydaelyn's reflections is a captivating one, and, well, here we are.
> 
> I loved having you, thank you so much for taking the time to read this little story of mine <3


End file.
